


All in Time

by wendywrites



Category: GOT7
Genre: M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 12:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2651315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendywrites/pseuds/wendywrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark and Jackson can’t seem to get their timing right, but maybe that’s for the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All in Time

**Author's Note:**

> poster by deep meaning graphics: http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/801971

 

 

“You okay, dude? You’re fidgeting in your seat like someone shoved a wasp nest down your pants and your eyes look shiftier than that old Maths teacher at our high school who was busted for selling drugs,” Jackson says around a mouth full of noodles.

 

“What? Uh, no, I’m fine,” Mark says unconvincingly. Jackson cocks an eyebrow and stares Mark down, watching and waiting for him to crack. After a few seconds of determined glaring, Mark’s eyes flit just over Jackson’s shoulder. Jackson turns around in his seat to seat to see a guy wiping down a table in the section belonging to the ice cream shop right beside the noodle restaurant the two of them have been eating at. A toothy smile is taking up about half his face and his eyes have all but disappeared from the major crinkling of the skin at their corners.

 

“Jackson, stop, turn around,” Mark hisses, grabbing and tugging at Jackson’s shoulder. “Why did you have to be so obvious about it?!” Mark whisper-shouts as he rubs a hand over his eyes.

 

“Why are you getting so worked up about this? Do you know him or something?” Jackson frowns a she turns around.

 

“I’m not,” Mark mumbles, face downturn as he scratches at the surface of the table with his fingernail. Mark has always managed to keep up an impressively cool façade in some truly embarrassing situations that Jackson has gotten him into over the twenty two year period that they’ve known each other. Who the hell is this guy?

 

“Hey, I know your face. You’re in my Economics class, right?” Jackson looks up at their visitor and frowns. Really, if this guy smiles any harder then his eyes will probably collapse into his face and blind him for life.

 

“Yeah, that’s right. You lent me your notes after I missed a class when I had a cold,” Mark smiles shyly with a dusting of red on his cheeks as he looks up from the table at last.

 

“That’s right! I remember your name too because it’s so unusual. Mork, right?”

 

“Mark; it’s Mark,” Mark giggles as his he clasps his hands together in his lap.

 

“And  _I’m_  Jackson!” Jackson says loudly as he leans forward, holding a hand up in front of Jinyoung’s face. “Who the hell are you?” Jackson jumps and hisses as he feels a sharp kick to his shin. “Shit! I need that leg to fence. What the hell, Mark?”

 

“I’m Jinyoung,” the guy chuckles as he glances between Mark and Jackson with amusement.

 

“So, Jinyoung, you work in the food court?” Mark asks just a bit too loudly as Jackson rubs at his aching leg.

 

“Yes, it’s only part time but it helps me cover some of my living expenses and makes things a bit easier for my parents,” Jinyoung says as he scratches the back of his head.

 

“That’s so thoughtful and responsible of you,” Mark says sweetly, and it’s all Jackson can do not to return his partially digested food back into his bowl.

 

“Well, I try my best,” Jinyoung chuckles as he stares down at his shoes. “Well, I’d better get back to work. I just came over to say hello. I’ll see you later in class, Mark. It was nice meeting you too, Jackson,” Jinyoung waves before he heads back over to the ice cream shop. Jackson opens his mouth to say something scathing when he notices the glaze over Mark’s eyes as he stares at Jinyoung’s back.

 

“What the hell is wrong with you? Do you like him or something?” Jackson grumbles, pushing the rest of his noodles around in his bowl.

 

“Huh? What?” Mark blinks out of his daze.

 

“I haven’t seen that look on your face in a while, but I still recognise it. You like him, don’t you?” Jackson crosses his arms over his chest. Mark scoffs and rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t deny it. “If you like him then why didn’t you just say so,” Jackson grumbles under his breath.

 

“Because you always get like this when I like someone!” The both of them jump at the vehemence behind Mark’s shout and Mark throws a terrified glance over Jackson’s shoulder before he groans and plants his face on the table. Jackson turns around. The bemused look on Jinyoung’s face slowly melts away until he’s licking his lips and chuckling to himself as he replaces an empty ice cream bucket.

 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Jackson shrugs as he turns back around.

 

“Look, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Let’s just go,” Mark catapults up from where he’s practically lying on the table and dives for his bag laying by the foot of his chair. Jackson gulps down one last mouthful of noodles and jumps up to follow Mark who’s already shuffling away from their table.

 

“Mark!” Jackson turns the other way to see Jinyoung running up to them with a towel thrown over his shoulder.

 

“Yes, Jinyoung?” Mark asks with a wince, barely able to facethe other man and look him in the eye.

 

“It’s a couple of weeks away still, but I’d like for us to be partners for the next assignment, if that’s alright with you.”

 

“Y-yeah, it’s definitely alright,” Mark chuckles nervously.

 

“Great,” Jinyoung gets all crinkly-eyed again as he grins, then he takes Mark’s hand and drops a kiss on the back of it before he jogs back to the ice cream shop.

 

“Come on, let’s go,” Mark grabs Jackson’s arm and pulls him along, a dopey grin lighting up his face. Jackson only just finished stuffing his face but as he glances back at Jinyoung and then at Mark, he feels his stomach churn.

 

 

 

 

Mark and Jackson have been attached at the hip born since they were born. Their older siblings used to joke that they came as a two-for-one deal like milk in the supermarket that was a day away from its expiration date. Their mothers lamented how difficult it would be for their future partners to get either one alone so they could go on dates.

 

“What are you talking about? Mark and I are gonna get married to each other!” Jackson declared when he was six. “Let’s do a pinkie-promise, Mark. We’ll get married when we get bigger.” Mark blinked in confusion, but held up his pinkie finger all the same.

 

“As if either of us is going to get married,” Jackson scoffed when he was twelve. Mark wilted a bit before he reminded Jackson about the promise they made when they were younger. “Mark, we didn’t even know what getting married meant back then, but it doesn’t matter because we’ll always be together anyway.” Mark beamed in satisfaction.

 

“Whatever, bros before hoes, right Mark?” Jackson snorted when he was sixteen, holding a fist out to Mark. Mark nodded distractedly and knocked their fists together with a faraway look on his face. A week later, he confessed.

 

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait a minute. When you said you like me you meant…” Jackson trailed off, feeling his stomach clench as Mark’s ears got redder and redder.

 

“I meant in a boyfriend kind of way,” Mark said, lowly but with determination. Jackson bit his lip. Sure he liked to joke about wonderfully the two of them fit together, how they were clearly meant to be, but that’s what it was – a joke. In that moment it became clear that the flustered laughter that would bubble out of Mark wasn’t just second hand embarrassment or fond exasperation with Jackson’s antics.

 

“Um, sorry, dude, but I only like you in a friend kind of way,” Jackson said sheepishly while rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“O-oh,” Mark stuttered, his voice cracking. Jackson could do nothing but cringe as his best friend in the world started blinking back tears, trying not to cry, because of his words. He wished he could lie and say he reciprocated Mark’s feelings, but that wouldn’t be fair to either of them.

 

“I’m sorry,” Jackson whispered.

 

“N-no, it’s alright. Sorry, I’ve got to go,” Mark scrambled to get his things together, shoving them in his bag, before he tore out of Jackson’s room, nearly tripping in his haste.

 

“Why did Mark just fly out of your room like a bat out of hell?” Jackson’s brother asked as he leaned in the open doorway.

 

“Nothing, he just forgot to do something,” Jackson mumbled as he nudged his brother a step back and closed the door.

 

After that there was a very awkward three week period where Jackson and Mark barely had any contact with each other. Their parents and siblings asked about what had transpired between them, but both of them were determined to  _keep_  the incident between them. Before this, there was never a moment where Jackson had ever envisioned a future without Mark beside him, but that was in jeopardy now. He’ll never admit it to anyone, but he nearly wept from relief the Tuesday afternoon that Mark sat down next to him at their special lunch spot under the oak tree and bumped their shoulders together.

 

“Hey,” Mark said with a small smile, his eyes looking a bit red and swollen. Jackson bit his lip.

 

“Hey,” he said softly in return, his fingers itching to grab Mark and pull him into a hug, but restraining himself for once for the other boy’s sake. “Are we cool?”

 

“Yeah, we’re cool,” Mark nodded.

 

Even so, it took a while before Jackson stopped catching Mark glancing at him out of the corner of his eyes with a wistful look and a sad smile. The day that Mark was finally able to smile at Jackson without shadows under his eyes was a happy one indeed, and the relief that coursed through his body when Mark shyly but gleefully reported that he was going out on a date nearly shook him. Back then Jackson was glad to see Mark had moved on, but now…

 

 

 

 

“Hey, dude, the second controller is getting cold and our party is rearing to get the mission started. What are you doing?” Jackson asks as he barrels into Mark’s room without knocking.

 

“Sorry but I’m going to see a movie tonight. Didn’t I tell you?” Mark asks distractedly, as he fixes his hair this way and that way in his floor length mirror.

 

“Do I look alright?” Mark spins around with his arms held open. Jackson bites his lip. The form fitting white shirt and long-sleeved white cardigan shows off his slim build and wiry muscles and is a nice contrast to his slightly big jeans that are ripped at the knees. His shiny brown hair is brushed out and the studs in his ears gleam as brightly as the smile on his face.

 

“Yeah, I guess," Jackson eyes rove up and down Mark’s body. “Where are you going anyway?”

 

“Weren’t you listening? I’m going to the movies,” Mark snorts lightly.

 

“No, I heard that, but what I mean is why am  _I_  not invited?” Jackson crosses his arms.

 

“I do have friends outside of you, you know,” Mark mutters to himself as he turns back to the mirror.

 

“Yeah, right,” Jackson scoffs disbelievingly, but Mark doesn’t say anything else, focusing on making slight adjustments to his already perfect appearance. Feeling like a bit like a dog that’s just had its nose whacked with a rolled up newspaper, Jackson turns and slumps out of the room, but not before he fires off one more question.

 

“Who are you going with by the way?”

 

“Just Jinyoung,” Mark mumbles, his reflection revealing his pink cheeks and soft smile. Jackson’s hand tightens around the doorknob, but he bites his tongue and closes the door behind him without another word.

 

 

Jackson breathes out a sigh before he brushes his still-damp hair off his forehead. No matter how many times he pesters his dad to install a sauna into the gym, it just seems to go in one ear and out the other. It’s not as though it’s a massive inconvenience for Jackson to go to the one in the mall instead, but it’s the principle of the matter. He doesn't get what the big deal is, it’s not like he’s asking for a zoo; a sauna would be a great amenity for athletes. At any rate, he uses the opportunity to treat himself to a smoothie at that really nice smoothe place, so he supposes it all works out. He stops short as he’s passing through the food court.

 

“Mark?”

 

Jackson can only see the back of his head, but every detail of Mark is so deeply etched into his mind that it takes nothing to identify him. He’s sitting at a table at the ice cream place that Jinyoung works at, his shoulders shaking with laughter as he leans forward. Jinyoung is right in front of him making a weird face and waving his hands in front of Mark. Jackson can’t hear what he’s saying, but it sends Mark into greater peals of laughter. Before Jackson realises it, his feet are diverting from their original path.

 

 

“Oh, hello there, Jackson,” Jinyoung waves at the newcomer. Jackson smiles with all thirty two teeth when he notices Jinyoung’s hand resting on Mark’s on the table.

 

“Hello, Jinyoung, Mark. So, what are you two up to?” Jackson says a bit too cheerfully.

 

“Nothing really? Shouldn’t you be in training?” Mark asks with a slight frown.

 

“I just finished actually. My two hour class got cancelled so I went in early,” Jackson says brightly.

 

“Great,” Mark mutters.

 

“So, you’re an athlete? Which sport?” Jinyoung tilts his head.

 

“Fencing,” Jackson says with a demonstrative shuffle and slash at Jinyoung, “So you might say I’m pretty good with a sword.”

 

“Jackson,” Mark says through clenched teeth.

 

“Fencing? That’s unusual,” Jinyoung chuckles and good  _God_  does this guy have any other expression besides ‘moderately amused’?

 

“So, what brings you here?” Mark asks as he leans his head in his hand, his elbow on the table.

 

“My post-work-out smoothie of course.”

 

“Hmm, could you bring one back for me too? The super berry one.” Jackson raises an eyebrow but nods his head and heads off, promising to be back shortly.

 

Six minutes later he’s strolling back towards the other end of the food court, any tension that’s still lingering from his work-out ebbing away with each cool and delicious sip of his citrus beet cleanser green smoothie. He frowns as he approaches the ice cream store; neither Mark nor Jinyoung is there. Behind the counter is a short girl with her hair tied up in a long ponytail.

 

“Good afternoon, how may I help you?” she asks with a practised smile.

 

“Uh, nothing. Don’t worry about it,” Jackson shakes his head and walks away, the cold, purple liquid in Mark’s cup spilling over onto his hand as he clutches it tightly.

 

 

His eyes are starting to blur from the poor lighting in the room, but Jackson makes no move to get up from his seat, instead he pours all of his jittery energy into killing as many zombies as he can before his character is overpowered again. When he finally dies, he doesn’t even bother to glance at his score before he hits reset. He is so off his game today that it’s not even funny. Taking a second to glance down at his phone lying on the floor beside his fee, the scowl on his face deepens and he the clacking of the controller gets more furious. It’s two in the morning. It’s two in the morning and Mark still isn’t back. What the fuck is he playing at?

 

It’s not like staying out is a crime and Mark’s a grown man, but he’s never stayed out this late before – at least not without Jackson right there with him. He’s not really worried for Mark’s safety or anything, Seoul isn’t exactly a war zone and Jinyoung seems too boring to be anything half as interesting as a serial killer, but Mark did say that he wouldn’t be out long. Did he end up in a car accident and is now lying comatose in a hospital bed? It would certainly explain why he hasn’t answered even one of Jackson’s fifteen texts.

 

When the GAME OVER title shows up on screen for the hundredth time that night, Jackson gets up, his bones cracking slightly, and hobbles his way to the kitchen. As he’s passing through the living room, something moves in his peripheral vision and he turns to see two figures on the video intercom. He shuffles over quickly to see Mark and Jinyoung loitering outside of Mark’s door, the both of them standing a bit too close to each other. Jinyoung then reaches out an arm and slides it around Mark’s waist, and now they’re standing  _way_  too close to each other. Jackson should’ve seen the kiss coming, but he still finds himself blindsided as Jinyoung gently tugs Mark even closer and tilts his head before he lightly presses their lips together. Jinyoung pulls away to whisper something against Mark’s lips and this time it’s Mark who’s closing the distance between them, his arms coming up to wrap around Jinyoung’s neck.

 

“Shit,” Jackson swears under his breath as he feels pain spike in his mouth, realising too late that he’s bitten his tongue. In the time it takes him to wash and blot the blood away in the kitchen sink, Mark still hasn’t returned. How long are they gonna stay out there? The door opens right as Jackson is stalking up to it, Mark entering with a giddy smile on his face as he licks at his lips.

 

“Oh, Jackson, what are you doing here?” Mark asks with a dreamy quality to his voice, smiling with more easiness at him than Jackson has seen in a little while.

 

“You said you wouldn’t be gone long so I hung around in case you wanted to play video games, but clearly you stayed out much later than either of us thought,” Jackson frowns, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

 

“We can play video games later. Don’t forget to lock the door behind you. Goodnight,” Mark waves before he skips off in the direction of the bathroom. Pain blooms in his mouth again as Jackson watches Mark leave.

 

“Yeah, later.”

 

 

‘Later’ comes a lot sooner than Jackson thought it would considering how Mark seems to want to spend all his free time with Jinyoung these days. The day starts off perfectly, with Mark and Jackson surrounded by pizza and chocolate, determinedly playing through the RPG title that Mark had gotten from his sister as a birthday present. For a couple of hours it’s like the good old days of Jackson and Mark, but it all goes sour with one simple  _ping!_

 

“Is that who I think it is?” Jackson asks as he takes a savage bite out of his slice of double cheese and pepperoni pizza.

 

“It’s Jinyoung,” Mark simpers at his phone. Jackson swallows hard.

 

“Fucking hell, he can’t even leave you alone for one minute?” Jackson grumbles as he reaches over and snatches Mark’s phone out of his hands.

 

“Jackson, what the hell are you doing?” Jackson jumps to his feet, holding Mark at bay with one hand while he types a message to Jinyoung with the other.

 

“I told him to piss off because you’re busy,” Jackson says snippily as he tosses Mark his phone back.

 

“What the fuck, man?” Mark leaps to his feet. “We hadn’t even resumed the game yet. Why are you acting like such a dick?” Mark asks as he frantically types out a message on his phone.

 

“Oh, so  _I’m_  the dick? Even though  _you’re_  the one who’s been ditching me for weeks?” Jackson sneers.

 

“That’s not fair! I’ve had to keep myself company more than a few times over the years when you got a new girlfriend or boyfriend!” Jackson chews on his bottom lip as he realises the truth to Mark’s words. “Are you the only one allowed to have a life for yourself?”

 

“No, that’s not what this is about,” Jackson shakes his head.

 

“Then what  _is_  it about? What’s your fucking problem, Jackson?”

 

Mark barely gets the words out before Jackson surprises the both of them by grabbing Mark by the arms and pulling him into a kiss. They both freeze– eyes bugging out of their heads–before Mark lifts his hands to Jackson’s chest and pushes him away, Jackson stumbling back until he falls backwards onto the sofa. They stare at each other with wide eyes, neither of them moving and both of them barely breathing. After a long silence Mark lifts a hand to his lips and Jackson feels something strangely like hope, but then Mark runs the back of his hand across his mouth. Jackson winces. Mark opens and closes his mouth once or twice before he shakes his head and turns tail, grabbing his coat and leaving Jackson’s apartment.

 

“Fuck,” Jackson breathes as he buries his face in his hands.

 

 

 

 

The awkwardness this time is so much worse than last time, which surprises Jackson when he thinks about how bigger and more dramatic everything feels when you’re a teenager. At least the university campus is big enough for them to easily avoid each other and pretend that they’re not avoiding each other. It’s four days into their separation when Jackson just about manages to convince himself that he’s not really in love with Mark, that he was just mad about his best friend breaking the bro code and that the kiss was just an expression of his frustration. That night he falls asleep easily, looking forward to explaining it to Mark the next day so they can put this whole thing behind them. That night he dreams of kissing Mark, but this time Mark doesn’t push him away.

 

“Shit,” Jackson croaks as he blinks up at his ceiling as another part of his body also greets it.

 

Rather than dwell on it any further, Jackson throws himself headlong into his fencing training, thinking of nothing but parries, feints, and lunges. Halfway through a day of being particularly brutal on himself, his coach and father pulls the plug, telling him to do his warm downs and go home to rest. Jackson somehow manages to makes it all the way back before he crashes on the floor of his living room, eyes slipping shut as he rests his face on the hard ground.

 

When he blinks his eyes open again, the room is much darker than before. Easing himself to his feet, Jackson stretches languidly before he pads off to take a long, hot shower. About forty five minutes later, he flops down on the sofa, feeling warm and rested and calm. It’s not until his gaze drifts to the game system under the television that he remembers why he was so strung out earlier. At once the room feels stifling and he’s pulling on a jacket and heading out the door. He doesn’t have any particular destination in mind, he just walks and walks and walks until he finds himself in a part of the city that he’s never been before, and then he keeps walking. Just when his legs threaten to give out, Jackson spots a bench. He hobbles over to it and slumps down, ignoring the biting cold of the metal on his skin.

 

“How did the universe get the timing so fucking wrong? Why have me be too late or Mark too early? Just get it right,” Jackson sighs, watching the delicate white tendrils that drift out of his mouth breath get carried away and dispersed by the wind.

 

“What’s this about wrong timing?” Jackson jumps. A woman in a long black coat is next to him on the bench. Her hair is completely grey, but there isn’t as much as a wrinkle on her face. He blinks at her as she tilts her head at him. “Well?”

 

“Um, it’s nothing really. Just an awkward incident that happened with my friend,” Jackson half rises from his seat, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end the longer she stares unblinkingly at him. She points a finger at the bench and Jackson lowers himself with a nervous swallow.

 

 “What do you know about good or bad timing?” Jackson shrugs with his palms held up. Narrowing her eyes, she pulls up her left sleeve and removes the metal watch strapped to her wrist. “Try it out then if you think you know best. All you need to do is set the date and time,” she says as she passes it to Jackson. The design of the watch suggests that it’s at most two years old, but the scratches and dents on its face and band make it seem as if someone has had it for centuries.

 

“Um, thanks, I guess but what do you want me to–” Jackson trails off as he looks up from the watch to find himself alone on the bench. He blinks half a dozen times before he stares back down at his hands. The watch is a solid weight in his hands, its surface rough from the abuse it’s endured, the underside of it still warm to the touch.

 

Jackson has no idea how to make sense of the information he’s been presented with, so he shakes his head and decides to find his way back home and get some food into his stomach. As he’s heading back he stares at the strange watch still clenched in his hand. It’s not as though he honestly believes the watch will send him back in time, but he finds himself fingering the crown curiously.

 

“Fuck it,” he shrugs before he pulls out the crown and sets the time back two hours, pausing for a second to laugh at himself before he presses it back down.

 

Jackson has never really sat down and thought about what it must feel like to travel through time or anything else so abstract, but even if he had he probably would’ve gotten it wrong. He figured it would be similar to the feeling of sticking your head out the window of a speeding car, but it’s more like having every bone in your body being broken into microscopic pieces before they’re reassembled, all in the space of a second. Jackson finds himself choking and gasping for air on the floor of his shower as water splashes on his face and pain ripples through his elbow and ankle, the hard metal of the watch digging into his palm. The water is a bit too hot for comfort, but it’s a few minutes before Jackson can manage to get all his limbs to work together properly. The sudden change in location should be proof enough, but he staggers to his feet and heads towards the living room to pull back the curtains. Sure enough, the sky is just turning violet as the sun sinks below the horizon.

 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Jackson mutters as he slumps down on his sofa. He holds up the watch, wondering if it also lets you travel to the future as well as the past. “What could it hurt?” he mutters to himself as he sets the watch forward by an hour. He presses down the crown, bracing himself for the crushing feeling once again, but it never comes.

 

“So it only takes you one way? What kind of lousy time machine is this?” Jackson grumbles as he fluffs his hair. A slightly hysterical laugh escapes his lips as Jackson realises what he just said. Well, now that he’s got a time machine, the question is when should he go next? Should he go back two weeks and stop himself from kissing Mark, thereby preventing the rift between them? Should he go back seven months and convince Mark to drop Economics, thereby preventing Jinyoung from stealing Mark away? Or maybe…

 

Jackson shudders as his body crumbles into dust once more. When he comes up again his head spinning so much and his blood pounding in his ears so loudly that he can barely see or hear Mark even though he’s sitting right in front of Jackson.

 

“Jackson, are you alright?” Mark asks, blinking in surprise and leaning forward.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jackson croaks. His voice cracks, but that’s not solely from the six year trip through time. His arms are a lot skinnier than they were a moment ago, his face is lacking stubble, and although he can’t see it, he can feel the badness of his haircut through his scalp. He’s sixteen again.

 

“Jackson?” He looks up to see Mark, also sixteen, staring at him in concern. Jackson beams before he reaches out and pulls Mark into his lap, one hand coming up to wrap around Mark’s back, the other cradling the nape of his neck. He tilts Mark backwards until the other boy has to grab at Jackson’s shoulders to support his body. As Jackson slips his tongue past Mark’s lips, he pulls the other boy even closer, squeezing the breath out of the both of them.  Eventually Jackson has to pull away to allow the both of them to breathe.

                                                                                                  

“Oh wow, that was even better than I expected,” Mark laughs breathlessly, looking painfully adorable with his flushed face and bright smile. His hands are still clutching at Jackson’s shoulders. Jackson leans down again and presses their lips together again–because he can.

 

“So, you really feel the same way?” Mark asks as if Jackson gave an ambiguous response to his confession.

 

“Do I ever,” Jackson grins as he nudges Mark’s nose with his own.

 

 

Three hours later–an hour after Mark has headed off for his home with a red face and slightly swollen lips–Jackson flops backwards onto his bed, grinning so hard that his entire face aches. He kicks his legs in glee and rolls around his bed until something hard digs into the small of his back. Sitting up, Jackson looks down to see the watch. Now more than ever he’s confused at the strange woman’s words. Was she trying to show him up or teach him a lesson or something?

 

“Who knows?” Jackson mutters to himself as he slips it in his pocket. Idly he wonders when she’ll come back for it. He’s just about to head downstairs and see what’s for dinner when a knock so faint that he can barely hear it comes on his door. Behind it is his mother, looking stricken. Jackson feels cold fingers of dread claw at his stomach.

 

“Mummy, what is it?” he breathes.

 

“Jackson, it’s Mark,” she says tearfully. Jackson’s stomach drops. She moves her mouth and sounds come out, but Jackson can’t make any sense of them. His mouth opens to tell her to stop, but the words stay lodged in his throat. No…No. No, no, no, no, nononononono!

 

He shoots past her, jumping into his shoes before he flies down ten flights of stairs and stumbles out into the night air. When he gets outside, he just runs and runs and runs, going faster and faster as he steady loses the feeling in his face, his lungs burning as he gulps down the frigid night air. The lights of surround apartments, shops signs, stoplights, headlights of cars and even the stars all blur into an indistinguishable colourful blob. His foot catches on a stone and he goes crashing to the ground. Sitting up, groaning in pain, he finds himself back at that same bench. He blinks and checks his pocket. A laugh bursts out of his mouth when he feels the solid metal. Of course! All Jackson has to do is go back in time and stop Mark from getting hurt. He takes out the watch, pulls at the crown and tries to reset the time. His laughter dies at once.

                         

“It’s stuck. Why is it stuck? What the  _fuck_? What kind of piece of shit time machine is this?!” He hurls the watch against the ground before a scream tears it way out of his throat, Jackson feeling soreness developing before he runs out of breath. When his voice eventually dies, he pants heavily as his vision swims and his body shudders.

 

“Do you still feel like running your mouth about bad timing?” Jackson swings around. The grey-haired woman is back.

 

“Wait a minute, that’s it? That’s  _it_?! He gets hit by a car and dies?” She nods. “Bullshit! That’s just one possible way the day could end. If I just make sure he’s not on the road at that time then wouldn’t that create a different outcome?”

 

“ _You’re_  trying to explain multiverse theory to  _me_? Oh, that’s adorable,” She laughs at him like a parent does when their child declares their intention to fly to the moon.

 

“Jeez, I thought fortune was supposed to be the cruel mistress. Who knew time could be such a bitch,” Jackson snaps.

 

“Incidentally, Fortuna is my sister,” she says matter-of-factly. Jackson just stares at her, not sure if she’s fucking with him or telling the truth.

 

“Look, since you’re being so stubborn, allow me to spell it out for you: there is no happy ending for you and Mark.” Jackson swallows hard. “This was the most immediate–and arguably one of the most tragic–endings to your story, but one way or another, peaceably or violently, you two are pulled apart.” Jackson grinds his teeth together before he inhales deeply and slowly releases it.

 

“Let me see,” he says lowly.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“I want to see it for myself.” She clicks his tongue at him.

 

“Even if I allowed you to do that, you’d dissolve to nothing before the message could penetrate your thick skull. Human beings aren't exactly built to withstand multiple trips through time.”

 

Jackson turns his head away, feeling tempted to argue the point, but feeling a rattling in his bones at the thought of being disassembled and reassembled however many times in vain. There’s no question of which outcome he’d rather choose, but he takes his time to answer anyway, licking his lips and pressing them together as he feels lips that aren’t there being pressed to them, bony fingers digging into his shoulders, warm breath puffing against his face. He slowly opens his eyes, not sure when he closed them.

 

“Alright,” he sighs. She nods.

 

“Holy shit,” Jackson shudders as he sits up on his sofa. His vision blurs in and out of focus so rapidly, he has to close his eyes for a few minutes, before he can open them again. He knows he went all out during fencing training today, but he didn’t think his legs would still be shaking this much. He needs to come up with less taxing avoidance tactics. As his breathing rate slows down, he glances at the game system sitting under the television. He bites his lip before he grabs his phone and types up a text message, pressing the send button before he can lose his courage. He releases a sigh and lays his head against the back of the sofa; the ball is in Mark’s court now. Jackson jumps when his phone buzzes a minute later. His body relaxes and his mind races with anxiety as he reads the reply.

 

‘2morrow @ 12:15pm, smoothie place’

 

 

 

 

Jackson has a bad habit of running late, usually because he overslept or simply forgot about the engagement, but today he shows up a full fifteen minutes before their agreed meeting time, ordering a happy banana smoothie to calm his nerves. It looks like he’s not the only one who was anxious because Mark comes into view a mere three minutes later.

 

“Hey,” he stops short, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

 

“Hey,” Jackson waves, hiding behind his cup.

 

“You’re early,” Mark nods.

 

“You too,” Jackson shrugs. Mark nods again and turns to place his order. Jackson cringes behind his smoothie. It’s just wrong for the two of them to be this awkward with each other–like they haven’t grown up together, like they don't know each other better than anyone else.

 

 “So, you actually gonna drink yours this time?” Jackson asks as they take a seat at a table. Mark blinks, his shoulders rising for a moment before he notices the lack of heat in Jackson’s voice and sees the half smile on his face.

 

“Of course; I paid for it,” Mark says, the corner of his lips quirking up. Jackson’s smile widens as he feels a laugh tickling the back of his throat. Mark presses his lips together, but they quiver all the same. They both manage to hold in their laughter for a few more seconds before it comes bursting out of their throats.

 

“Fair enough,” Jackson says as his laughter peters off. “Look, I wanna just say I’m sorry. Not just for…you know, but also for the way I acted before that. You were right; I was behaving like a jealous, possessive dick.” Mark takes a long pull on his drink before he nods and Jackson feels any lingering tension seep out if his body.

 

“Jinyoung asks about you every now and then, you know. ‘How’s Jackson been?’, 'Jackson always seems so lively when I see him', ‘Do you think Jackson would mind if I went to one of his fencing practices?’ I don’t know why, but he seems to be under the impression that you’re someone he’d like to befriend,” Mark snorts lightly, rolling his eyes before he takes another pull on his smoothie.

 

“Watch out before I steal your man,” Jackson winks, feeling surprised at how easily the words flow off his tongue, how little effort he has to put into keeping the smirk on his face.

 

“Go find your own,” Mark throws a napkin in his face.

 

“I will, and he’ll be taller than you, and buffer than you, and actually know how to dance,” Jackson declares.

 

“I  _can_  dance,” Mark protests with a frown.

 

“Awww did your mother tell you that?”

 

“Whatever, man,” Mark rolls his eyes. Jackson bites his lip.

 

“But you have to promise that even if you and Jinyoung run off and get married and adopt like six kids and ten dogs, we need to stay best friends.”

 

“Of course,” Mark smiles softly. Jackson holds out his cup and Mark lightly knocks his cup against it.

 

 

 

 

Jackson frowns at the screen of his phone, turning around in a circle three times to make sure the arrow is pointing in the right direction before he heads off down the road again. The directions looked so simple, how is it taking so long to get to the bookstore? He’s so fixated on his phone that he actually walks right past it.

 

“Jeez, what is with my sense of direction today?” Jackson grumbles under his breath as he enters the small bookstore, pushing his sunglasses up to the bridge of his nose. The store is practically empty from what he can see, but that doesn’t mean he’ll take the risk of someone recognising him and thinking he’s turned into some kind of weirdo egghead for being in this weirdo egghead bookstore.

 

It’s been weeks since he made up with Mark, but he still gets the shivers when he thinks about that really weird, really vivid dream he had the day before. A couple days ago he borrowed Mark’s laptop and did a search for books about time travel to find that there’s a whole host of books about the topic. After a bit of sifting and skimming he noticed particularly high praise for one tome and subsequently tried to find a local bookstore that carried it. Almost none of them did, but not because it’s a niche topic that only nerds are interested enough in to shell out cash for it like Jackson initially thought, but because it keeps getting sold out. Just as he was about to try to search for another title, he managed to stumble across the address of a small, sci-fi focused bookstore on the outskirts of Seoul that still had one copy left.

 

Making his way down the shelves, Jackson scans the various sections, looking for one on time travel, and then looking for the author’s surname.

 

“Aha, found it,” Jackson smiles and reaches out to pluck it off the shelf, but his hand smacks into another hand.

 

“Oh, you wanted this one too?” asks a man with pitch black hair and sharp brown eyes.

 

“Uh, yeah. Why is this book so damned popular?” Jackson asks with furrowed brows as he picks the book off the shelf and turns it over in his hands.

 

“Apparently it goes really in-depth about a lot of interesting theories about time and the universe,” the man lifts a hand to his chin and strokes it thoughtfully.

 

“Are you a Physics major or something?” Jackson pulls off his sunglasses. With them off, Jackson notices there are two small moles on the man’s left eyelid.

 

“No, Film Studies with a minor in Dance,” he chuckles a bit self-consciously.

 

“Then what’s got you so interested in this geeky shit?” Jacksontilts his head.

 

“What, I can’t just be interested in it for its own sake?” The other man raises an eyebrow and punches Jackson on the arm. “Although…”

 

“Although?” Jackson asks encouragingly.

 

“I became interested in it because of this really weird, vivid dream that I had about time travel.” Jackson starts, slapping the man on the shoulder.

 

“Shut up! So did I! I went to the past to change a decision I made six years ago. You too?” The other man shakes his head.

 

“No, I went to the future.”

 

“I actually tried to go to the future in my dream, but the stupid watch wouldn’t let me,” Jackson grumbles to himself.

 

“You had a watch too?” The other man asks with wide eyes.

 

“Holy shit, this is downright freaky!” Jackson exclaims with equally wide eyes. “It can’t be a coincidence that we both had similar dreams and came to the  _same_  bookshop on the  _same_  day at the  _same_  time to buy the  _same_  book.”

 

“Seems pretty unlikely,” he nods.

 

“I say we split the cost of this thing and read it together, talk about our dreams,” Jackson waves the book in his hand.

 

“Sounds fine to me,” the other man nods; Jackson holds his hand out for the other man to shake. His hands are big and warm, his palms slightly rough. Jackson can’t help but smile as he holds his hand as tightly and shakes with as much vigour as Jackson does. “What’s your name, by the way?”

 

“Jackson, I’m Jackson. What about you?”

 

“Jaebum,” the other man smiles.

 

“Well, Jaebum, let’s go pay for this and find a coffee shop so we can get started.” 

 

“Yeah, let’s do that.” Jaebum’s eyes disappear in a smile.

 


End file.
